Captive
by iseefireandrain
Summary: Red and Liz are held captive in a decrepit room by a vengeful enemy of Red's with limited to little supplies, where they will have to learn to rely on each other for survival and comfort if they ever want to get out alive and remain sane. Liz also learns about the type of person she is when depravity tests her. M for torture scenes, violence, and Red/Liz as main pairing.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with the Blacklist. Everything to do with it belongs to Jon Bokencamp and NBC. I have only just started watching it, and I binged my way through all the episodes in less than four days. What an addictive show, and it gets you completely engrossed into the storylines and backgrounds of these characters and you sympathize. James Spader is awesome (and I know a lot of women like him, which I don't blame them) but I'm a guy, so Megan Boone is beautiful... But **__**I found myself wanting something to happen between Reddington and Liz and wouldn't have minded seeing them imprisoned together in a room in a high tension situation (where they had only each other to rely on) and wondered what would develop, if anything romantically or otherwise. So this is my attempt to write something about the pair of them. Until recently, I didn't know fan fiction existed and I hope I am doing it right. I think I stumbled across it because I noticed my little sister liked writing on here on a different category, so thus here I am. Any feedback or kind criticism is welcomed and appreciated - Jay.**_

_**Captive**_

Liz was lying huddled up on a damp mattress, her hands tucked under her knees and the side of her head resting against the uncomfortable surface.

Groggily, she sat up on her side, resting her back against a hard, cement wall behind her. She tightly gripped her knees with her hands and blinked several times in attempt to clear her disoriented and blurry vision. She had no idea what this place was or where she was, but she had a faint idea considering what had happened and what she faintly remembered. The room she was in was dark with no source of light and everything was eerily still; No voices, no sounds, no fresh air.

How on earth did she get herself into this situation? So far, her day had been going fine. She had chased down another one of Raymond Reddington's Blacklister's. Everything had gone according to plan, and the entire thing had resulted in a fifteen minute chase on the street to bring the target in.

After all the excitement, exhaustion had permeated its way inside her body and she felt like ordering Chinese take-out for the afternoon. She didn't even make it a foot into the restaurant before being intercepted by two men with stockings over their heads to obscure their facial features. She assumed they were males according to their height and physical build.

She was thrown into a van, had a sedative drug slipped into her neck by a syringe, and once she finally woke again, she ended up here.

Liz didn't know how long she had been stuck in the room. It was impossible to tell. Was it five hours? Or ten? Nearly a full day? She had no idea.

The windows were covered with what seemed like tinted plastic, blocking out any source of the daylight or surroundings to her. It was quiet outside, aside from the sound of several cars rushing by occasionally, which told her she was near the roadside. The only furniture supplied to her was a dank old mattress on the ground to sleep on and a small grimy sink and seat-less toilet. A bottle of water was on the ground near the mattress.

At least her abductors didn't expect her to piss on the floor. That was one tiny thing to be thankful for.

The bottle of water was definitely going to help some, too. Already, Liz felt dehydrated, possibly an effect from the sedative they had slipped into her bloodstream.

Using her hands and sense of feeling, she patted down her clothes. They had taken away her laminated FBI ID card on arrival, as well as all of her other possessions; Her cell phone, her handcuffs, her handgun. She slid the fingers of her right hand over her left, feeling the cold metal of her wedding band still in place on her fourth finger.

Trying to regulate her breathing so she wouldn't pass out, Liz reached forward and grabbed the plastic water bottle at the base of the mattress, uncapping it urgently. She brought the nozzle up over her lips, took a long drink until she felt the dryness in her mouth disappear, then sat it back down on the bare ground as she inspected her surroundings.

She tried to make sense of where she was and the reason, to little to no success. She had no idea why these people had done this to her. She had no idea what their plan was for her. But she hoped everyone would realize she was missing and hadn't reached the office at the end of the day.

Ressler, Cooper, Reddington... Surely someone would realize something had gone amiss with her. It was the only source of hope she could cling onto.

She rested her head back against the wall, looking around. She saw nothing but a hopeless darkness. She felt like a bird confined in a cage. In the only way she knew how to soothe herself mentally, she brought her thumb over the puckered scar on her wrist, rubbing it furiously. It cleared her mind for a good minute or two, but the fear wouldn't leave her.

When she turned her head to the left of her, she saw a door. A cold, clinical-looking steel door. No doubt it would be locked. What was the point of kidnapping someone, if they could escape easily?

Evidently the men responsible of doing this to her were smart and this was something premeditated.

She took a quick evaluation of her body. Her hands felt alright. She could feel her fingers, her toes. Her face felt fine, aside from a painless throbbing- a symptom of the sedative, no doubt. Then she realized something felt... off with her right leg. There was a dull stinging present and the fabric of her trousers seemed to want to stick to the skin of her thigh. She pressed her palm into the area and felt something warm and sticky. There was a hole in her trousers, the fabric had been torn apart. When she brought her hand closely to her eyes she confirmed her assumption- blood. She then understood the reason her trousers were torn apart, and the tenderness of her thigh. She lightly touched the area with her fingers and took in a sharp breath as she realized how deep it was- they had hurt her leg. Stabbed her with something sharp.

Jesus. What had they done to her? Why were they doing this?

Suddenly she heard footfalls from outside the room. A staircase. Someone was clomping down a steel set of stairs. She was in the lower part of a building, possibly a basement. She heard a set of keys clinging together and feeling like a frightened child again, she leaned closer against the wall, slouching forward and holding her arms protectively over her head.

The door creaked open and she cried out weakly at the sudden blaring of light that assaulted her vision. Heavy footsteps approached the mattress and all she could see was a heavy thick outline. A male, about five-foot-eight. He reached down towards her with an arm and she drew her hands more protectively over her head.

And then, he spoke. "Talk." His voice was heavily accented. Russian, Liz thought. She didn't recognize his voice at all. When she refused to meet his demands, he raised his voice firmly, "Talk, I said!"

A phone was being pressed into the side of her face. Her cell phone.

Liz was startled for a moment and couldn't find her voice. Was this man stupid or what? Why was he allowing her to talk on her cell phone? Didn't he know the FBI could hopefully trace her cell and find out her whereabouts?

Liz's mouth opened and closed. And then she forced her tongue to work. "H-hello?"

She heard movements from the phone. Multiple voices talking. Cooper... Meera. A panicked urgent voice on the other line. Was that Ressler's voice in the background?

"Lizzie?"

Red. Her heart surged.

She looked up at the man before her who was holding the phone out to her. His face was obscured, a black blur. She wet her lips and spoke, quietly but firmly. "Yes, it's me. I don't know what's happening."

"Lizzie, tell me where you are? Can you hear me?"

"Yes, but I... I don't know." Her voice lowered to nothing more than a drained, weak whisper. "I don't know where I am. But they've got me here. My legs bleeding. There seems to be blood everywhere."

"Lizzie, try speaking up, I can barely hear you. The reception where you are must be horrendous."

"They... they have me here. I'm in a room." She didn't know how long she had left until the man cruelly took her phone away, so the words were quick and fast. "It's dark. Something that looks like tinted plastic coating the windows. I don't know what they want from me."

There was a loud and frantic outbreak of noises on the other line. She could hear Ressler shouting, demanding Red to give him the phone. Then she heard Red shout, "Dembe, bring the car around. We're going out on a drive." She heard more shouting on his end of the line and was shocked to hear Red shouting again. Usually he was always composed and hardly let his worries show. "Donald, sit your ass down. I am trying to get all the information from Agent Keen as much as I can." Red's voice turned abruptly softer, as he directed his next words at her, "Lizzie, think carefully. What happened?"

"I... I'm not sure. After everything was done this morning I felt like some hot chinese to take home. But then... they came along. Shoved me into their van, put some sedative into me. I don't know."

She heard Ressler's voice again on the other line.

"This is how it works, Donald. I'll find her myself. I think I have a fair idea who is behind this. His name is-"

"- He has a Russian accent," was the very last thing Liz could get out before the man cruelly ended the call. He dropped her cell phone to the ground carelessly. Lifted his shoe. Then proceeded to stomp on it, shattering the battery.

Liz raised her eyebrows at the figure standing before her. "What's that going to accomplish?" she asked bluntly. "Now they know where you are, they were probably tracking my phone. They're coming for you. You won't stand a chance now. You'll be arrested for ten years, maybe even twenty, along with your multiple accomplices."

"Good, it's all I ask," the man spoke over her with satisfaction. "Let him come."

It was then that it occurred to Liz that this was their grand scheme all along. They somehow knew Reddington would come for her. She was his one true weakness. It wasn't Liz they wanted. It was... _Red__._ Her stomach lurched and she felt as if she wanted to gag at the horrible realization. Before she had time to fully process that, the man reached down, stuffed his fingers inside her leg wound, and pulled at her already taunt and tender skin. Her head whirled, she was thrust into a sudden spinning pain, and a humming of noiseless air crackled in her ears. She screamed loudly, surprised that she still remained completely lucid despite the excruciating pain it had on her.

_And the man was only just getting started..._

It felt like the longest hours of her life. Liz was bewildered that someone could stand so much pain and not die of it. She repeatedly cried at the man, begging him to stop, to show mercy, only he didn't listen to her pleas. She knew it was all for Reddington. He would crack that much easier seeing how broken and bloody she was.

Liz had heard of what happened when people got tortured. They would sometimes "drift off" or "go somewhere else" in order to escape the pain during the ordeal. She did her best to find somewhere else to go mentally, but she remained right there in the room, feeling and enduring everything the man was doing to her.

Her face was crusted in blood and tears. She opened her droopy eyes and looked up at the man standing before her, trying to meet him squarely in the eyes for the first time in what felt like a long, terrible hour. She could taste the metallic tinge of blood in her mouth and when she ran her tongue over her lips, they felt cracked and split.

She swallowed thickly and summoned her voice to speak. "You're going to die," she said as coldly as she could muster; the only thing she was certain of. "Once he finds out what you've done to me... you're going to die."

Throughout all the pain, she felt something burn inside her gut. The idea of vengeance. It was the only idea she had to cling onto, the only hope keeping her from falling into darkness...

* * *

Heavy breathing and activity around her slowly pulled Liz back into consciousness. She fought to return to sleep, as a way to ignore the pain around every part of her body. She was vaguely aware that her head was aching, and that disgusting taste of blood wouldn't seem to leave her mouth. Hell, her entire body was aching. Someone's warm, dry hand stroked her cheek, and she leaned into their gentle touch, craving it. Then there was a voice surrounding her, one she recognized, and she grew scared. He had let himself be lured straight into a trap. _For her_.

"Lizzie," the voice said. "Lizzie, can you hear me? Talk to me, sweetheart."

Her eyes opened and all the pain came rushing to her again in copious amounts. She had hoped it had all been just some terrible nightmare, one she would wake from, uninjured and free. Yet here she was, stuck in the same dim room, but with another with her this time around. A man's face slid into view through her blotted vision, and after an initial jolt of alarm at the sight of him, Liz felt instantly better. Safer. She was going to be alright now. Now, she had a hope of surviving after all.

"Red."

He was quiet for a moment, stroking her cheek with his fingers. "Hey," he said gently, stroking around a particularly sensitive part of her cheekbone. "I'm here, Lizzie. Everything is going to be fine."

She felt tears sting and form in her eyes. The saliva and blood coating her tongue made it difficult to form words, but she tried with all her might to be corehent enough for him. "How long have I been out?" she asked.

"I'm not sure, Lizzie." The worry in his voice was evident. "I only just got here, but you're safe now. You have me with you now, and I'm not going to let anything else happen to you."

Liz gingerly lifted her hand to the gash in her thigh, finding it covered with cloth. She lifted her head slightly to peer down at it, finding it wrapped and covered tightly in the cloth of one of Red's spotted ties. Red had already worked on cutting the flow of blood and applying pressure apparently. He wasn't idle the instance he found her; He had obviously treated her leg with a matter of urgency. The simple gesture of moving her arm left her feeling weak and dizzy so she leaned her head back down against the mattress. Red unscrewed the water bottle and held it to her lips, crouching over her, and she drank thirstily.

The water seemed to help with getting rid of the stale blood tingeing her palate. "Why are we still in this room?" she asked weakly, wiping her mouth with tremendous effort.

"Right now the answer to that doesn't matter, Lizzie. Let's try to fix you up."

She felt his hands on her, feeling around and taking careful and gentle evaluation of her injuries. She kept her eyes on his, too afraid to look herself at how much the man had ruined and broken her body, as his eyes travelled down her body, studying every laceration, every scratch. She could tell he didn't like what he saw; It was a subtle movement, but one she caught. His jaw tensed and his mouth parted slightly then closed again, and she saw the brief flash of anger and guilt building in his eyes. He gently grasped her ankle and brought her knee up into an elevated position, and, just like that, the constant throbbing in her thigh eased slightly.

"Who were those men? The ones that did this to me? What were they trying to prove?"

The right corner of Red's mouth twitched and she heard him sigh deeply through his nostrils. He reached up and swept the matted, sticky hair out of her eyes with his fingers gently, and although she didn't understand why, Liz felt astoundingly relieved in his presence. "Unfortunately, Lizzie, those men are still in effect."

"You mean they're still out there?" she asked slowly in disbelief. "Are we... stuck in here? Now you as well as me? Did you surrender yourself to them? Does Cooper and Ressler know where we are?"

"As I said, Lizzie, you're going to be fine. I'm here with you now. I won't let them touch you again."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Captive**_

Liz must have drifted off to sleep again, although she didn't know how long for.

This time, sleeping wasn't so much of a horrible experience for her, maybe because she vaguely knew in the back of her mind that Red was confined in the dark and dismal room along with her. When she gradually came to rights again, she let her eyes remain shut, afraid of opening them and being thrust into a cold reality again.

With her eyes closed, she felt as if she was safe at home again, in bed, cocooned in warm blankets. Funny thing was, Tom marred her sense of security, so she deliberately blocked him out of the equation. In an ironic way, she felt almost relieved to be stuck in a room, rather than having to go home to her lying husband and keep up her exhausting game of pretence around him.

But unfortunately like most situations, you couldn't hide away from them forever.

Finally allowing her eyes to open, she blinked to adjust to her bleak surroundings. Her face felt terrible and she knew streaks of dried, crusted-up blood was everywhere on it, only there wasn't much she could do about it. She had more important issues to be concerned about, than her appearance in front of Red.

The side of her cheek was resting against Red's shoulder, and she lifted her eyes to stare up at him. The rear of his head was resting against the back of the wall, and his eyes were closed. His shirt was stark white in the room. She couldn't tell whether he was actually truly sleeping or not, but she thought he appeared somewhat peaceful despite their dire circumstances. Lifting her head slowly from his shoulder, she realized why she felt so warm and as if she was wrapped in blankets, in bed. Red's long coat was draped around her body, providing comforting warmth.

Breathing deeply through her nose to keep herself calm, she lifted her feet and arms experimentally, relieved to note that the effects of the sedative had finally worn off completely. But moving her legs only caused a sting in her thigh, a sharp pain in the centre of her ribs, and brought back the memories full-force of what had happened possibly hours ago. She began to feel ill as the wound in her leg started aching dully again, as well as the entire length of her body. It wasn't excruciating, but it was hardly the most pleasant feeling on her either. She gritted her teeth and rolled her shoulders around. She felt as if her insides had been brutally beaten and, in a sense, they actually had.

An abrupt stabbing pain burst through the side of her ribs and she hissed sharply through her teeth, her body jolting uncontrollably in shock.

She must have been too loud, because Red stirred immediately awake and turned to look at her with concern. "Are you alright, Lizzie? What is it? Are you in a lot of pain?" His voice was hard and urgent.

She didn't want to seem weak or cause him to worry too much, so she shook her head lightly and forced on a tight-lipped smile. Shaking her head only caused her to feel dizzy, and tears started to pool in her eyes. "It's not about the pain. It's just that I... I want to go home, Red," she admitted to him plaintively, like a small child. "This is like a bad dream that I keep waking up to. I just want it all to end. I want to be home again."

"And you'll be home soon, Lizzie," he assured her, moving the strands of her hair out of her eyes. "I promise you that nothing else is going to happen to you, not while I'm here. We'll be out of here shortly."

"No shortly. I want out of here now," she said quietly.

"I know that you do, Lizzie. And believe me; I want nothing more in the world than to be out of here myself. But unfortunately, until the terms are firmly established into what these men truly want, it will be slow-moving for a while, sweetheart. All I can simply ask of you is that you try to remain calm as much as you possibly can, and to trust in me when I tell you that I won't let anything else happen to you while we're imprisoned here in this room. You're going to be absolutely fine."

Unlike Liz, who was having trouble processing everything and not falling to pieces as every second ticked on by, Red sounded utterly calm and was self-possessed in talking about the situation they were being forced into. She had to admit it was admirable of him, if yet a little exasperating. Liz didn't feel as if there was any good reason to act calm at the moment. Then again, she had read enough background information on Reddington to know that he likely had vast experience in life-threatening ordeals such as this.

She gave her head a slight, dizzying shake. "You make it sound so easy. Already, I feel like I'm going insane. I just don't understand why they are doing this."

"Why? You know why, Lizzie, deep down inside." Red's voice was deep and soft, comforting to her. It was impossible to feel alone when she was with him. "I have made a lot of enemies throughout the years. Unfortunately these men have seemed to find out one of my weaknesses and are using it to their advantage. I'm terribly sorry, Lizzie."

A tight, aching lump formed in her throat and she swallowed against it. She knew exactly who he was making a reference to. She closed her eyes tightly, feeling warm tears slide down her cheeks.

Red obviously mistook her tears for something else, because he said with evident worry, "Lizzie, on a scale of one-to-ten, how much is your leg hurting?"

She opened her eyes and looked around the moderately large room, feeling as if the walls were moving in on them minute by minute. "It's not my leg," she said dismissively. "I'm fine. On a scale of one-to-ten, I'd say about a... six. It's tolerable, and you compressing the wound helped. I just hope to God we get out of this alive."

"And we will. I promise."

She turned her chin into his direction. "How can you be so sure?" she whispered dubiously. "We don't even know what these men want."

"I think I know a thing or two, Lizzie."

"Anyway, thank you for finding me," Liz said, exhaustion pervading her words.

But she felt it needed to be said. She couldn't remember the last time she properly thanked Red for coming to her aid, and it was probably long overdue. She didn't want to seem too ungrateful.

"I thought he wasn't going to stop. When he disconnected the phone after I talked briefly to you, he flew straight into a rage. I actually thought, for a moment there, that he was going to..." Her throat constricted tightly, her voice trailed off, and instead, she sat up uncomfortably on the mattress and leaned her head against his shoulder.

Talking about it in the open was only making her obsessively over-analyze the situation, and Red was right; She needed to remain calm, in order for them to survive. It was proving to be a challenge however; Liz had always felt funny about confined spaces. Even in elevators, she felt a touch claustrophobic.

Her mind raced back to what that man had done to her; Hitting her, kicking her in the ribs mercilessly. Making the gash in her leg even worse and opening it raw again. Locking the door on her despite her cries and taking the keys away with him. Making her feel hopelessly confined in an air-tight room full of shadows and no fresh air, no daylight, no anything...

Liz instantly regretted letting her mind drift off, when she noticed her breathing had accelerated. Her breaths were rapid and shallow, with no oxygen fully getting into her brain. She could tell a panic attack would be quickly on its way if she didn't get herself under control soon.

"God, I feel like I can't breathe, like... someone's holding something over my head. Something invisible obstructing my airways."

"I want you to do something for me, Lizzie. I want you to place one hand on your chest, and one hand on your stomach. Can you do that for me?"

Ignoring the dizziness the movements had on her, she laid one hand flat on her stomach and pressed the other to her heaving collarbone.

"Good. Now I want you to take in several deep breaths through your nose. Can you do that for me as well, Lizzie?"

"Okay," she whispered. She drew in air through her nostrils, inflating her diaphragm. "Like this?"

"That's it. Feel the air going into your lungs. Stretching them. How is that feeling now, Lizzie?"

She was quiet for a moment, feeling the air expanding her lungs. "Better. I feel as if everything isn't spinning so much out of control."

"That's very good, sweetheart." She heard the soft appreciation in his voice. "Now I want you to close your eyes, and think of yourself being somewhere else. Somewhere unlike where you are now." Obeying him, she let her eyes close as she continued breathing deeply through her nose, surrounding herself in nothing else but the darkness beneath her eyelids and the melodious sound of his voice. "A beach, with the waves gently brushing up to the shore. At home, in bed, surrounded by cool silk sheets. Somewhere calming and less... traumatizing."

When he stopped speaking, Liz heard nothing but a soothing silence surrounding her and her own, measured intakes of breath through her nostrils. Her chest rising and falling under her palm. Relaxation at its finest.

"When did you have the time to learn how to meditate?" she asked slowly with a sigh.

"I spent a week at the Banthai Beach Resort & Spa in Thailand. It was quite possibly the best week of my life."

"Sounds amazing." She let her hands drop and reopened her eyes slowly. Everything seemed a lot better. Suddenly the outcome of being stuck locked in a room didn't seem so bleak and terrifying. She found she could breathe easier, and process everything more logically. No longer did Liz feel such an impending sense of doom. Her head felt clearer, and even the dizzy spells had seemed to disappear completely. She guessed some deep, calming breathing was exactly the remedy she needed. "I guess I am really thinking of this in the wrong way, aren't I?" she whispered, resting her cheek against his shoulder again. "I'm away from my husband. I don't have to pretend to be somebody I'm not right now. While I'm stuck in here, I don't have to be near Tom. I don't have to endure him or 'stay the course'. Things could really be a hell of a lot worse, couldn't they?"

She leaned back slightly to look into his eyes, then reached out for his hand hesitantly with trembling fingers. She wasn't sure whether holding his hand was going one step too far, but Red hardly seemed to mind. Slicing through her hesitation, Red made the move for her in finding her hand in the dim, shadowed light of the room. He intertwined his fingers through hers, sat their interlaced hands in his lap, and holding his hand and having something- or somebody- strong to cling onto ebbed all her fears away. She was with Red, and that gave her unbelievable strength inside. And they were going to make these people pay.

They were going to survive.

That fire spread through her belly again. Ideas of vengeance. Liz wasn't so sure where the ideas came from, or just what she was turning into. Maybe some kind of ruthless monster. But it didn't matter. She had Red with her. She wasn't alone and she had some defense techniques up her sleeve.

She flexed her fingers over his tightly, before speaking softly, "Tell me a story. About how you came to know of me?"


	3. Chapter 3

_**I own nothing revolving around the Blacklist. I'm just a guy who is a fan.**_

_**Thank you for your alerts and the reviews this story has received so far. It's a great surprise, and I'm so thankful. I know it hasn't been revealed yet what the connection was between Reddington and Liz, but this is my take on it. Hoping you won't mind the speculation. After all tests they ran at the beginning of the show into how they are linked, it's impossible for the pair of them to be blood-related. But he knows so much about her, he knows Sam, and he obviously is fond of the woman enough to protect her.**_

_**I also like the idea of the two of them together romantically, so it will come into play. I apologize that it's slow at the moment. Just the two conversing on a mattress together. Your thoughts are most welcome and appreciated, so please do give them to me.**_

* * *

_**Captive**_

Reddington was silent for a moment before he spoke. "The answer to that question isn't so simple, Lizzie."

"I don't care." Her voice was tight with a pleading edge to it. "I think it's safe to say that we're going to be stuck in this room for hours. We have all the time in the world for you to thoroughly explain it to me."

Red's hesitation to answer spoke volumes in the silence that passed between them. But Liz wanted no more lies or secrets between them. Not now. Not when it was a real possibility either one of them could die at the hands of their abductors.

Liz had just only been tortured for hours by one of the men. The abductors were Red's enemies. She had suffered and paid a price because she was one of his weaknesses, something they could use against him as leverage for whatever it was these people wanted. If she was going to be used like a puppet in their cruel and twisted little games, then she thought she deserved the truth.

"Now is the time for you to tell me the truth," she said, squeezing his hand tightly with her fingers. "There is a real chance that we could die in this room, and you said it's likely that these men are one of your enemies that you have established over the years. They're using me as leverage to get to you, and, because of that, I think I deserve to know why I mean so much to you."

Pressing her mouth shut, she leaned her head against his warm shoulder and waited. She didn't know how long she would have to wait for, but all Liz knew was that she wouldn't give up completely until she had reached some level of understanding from him. She was determined, and besides, there wasn't much to do in a place like this under lockdown but talk until the men asserted their demands.

"If I die in here..." Her stomach rolled unpleasantly at the thought, "Then I want to die peacefully knowing the truth about everything."

"Lizzie," Red finally spoke, clenching her hand back with his own fingers. His voice was measured but strong, with admonishment in it. "You're not going to die, not today, and certainly not in here. That I promise you."

"You don't know that," she argued quietly. "Before... when he was torturing me, I wasn't so sure. It was apparent that killing me wasn't something this guy was too concerned about doing. He simply just... restrained himself because he knew that in killing me it would foil all his plans in getting you here. I think they have this all meticulously planned out. They've been arranging this whole thing for a while now and now that they have succeeded in having us here, it's reached its fruition."

"You're going to overwork yourself. Stop being so concerned into the why's and how's, Lizzie. Just focus on getting some rest. How is everything feeling?"

"Resting is the last thing I want to do, and I'm fine. Everything hurts the same. Are you gonna tell me the truth for once or do I have to keep on pressuring you for answers?"

She stared at the base of his neck while she waited. She could faintly see the scar on his neck, the lump of scaly fibrous tissue from when she had jammed a ballpoint pen into him. If she had something decent to threaten his life with and intimidate him, she wouldn't have ruled out possibly doing it again in the heat of the moment.

He shifted slightly on the mattress to look down at her. Since she had the side of her cheek on his shoulder, their faces were an inch apart. The closeness bothered Liz in a way she wasn't completely sure the reason of, but she swallowed her nerves down and held her eyes on his beseechingly.

"Tell me the truth for once," she implored quietly. "You once told me it was about my father, but you're not my father, are you?"

Liz couldn't imagine Red ever lying about that. But she knew him to be a walking-talking contradictory.

She could tell her words were getting to him and that he was coming close to breaking down and finally divulging her with the truth of how they were connected. It was subtle, but she could read it well. He took in a deep breath and looked away from her across the room at the wall opposite from where they were sitting. He brought a hand up and ran his fingers over his close-cropped scalp.

"That was the truth, Lizzie. I have no need to lie to you about that, and I am most definitely not your father. But it _is_ about your father. It's about your father Sam."

She drew in a ragged breath as her brain worked overtime to process that. "You _knew_ my father?"

"I did, Lizzie. I knew Sam very, very well." Red's voice was little more than a deep rumble of fondness and memories. He smiled slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Sam and I were old friends dating years and years back. We talked occasionally here and there throughout the years, when we had the time. He would tell me about the developments in your life. He was the most wonderful man I had ever met, in all of his complexities."

"Have I met you before? Did you come over to visit once?" Liz couldn't remember meeting Raymond Reddington in her younger years. If she had, she was certain he wouldn't have been an easy character to forget.

"I saw you only once, Lizzie. Once when you were four and the adoption had gone ahead smoothly. But when your father and I met, it was always privately and clandestinely. We were extremely cautious that you did not see me, for obvious reasons. I'm a criminal. We were just two old pals, chatting and reflecting on the shenanigans of our younger years, where things were far less... complicated."

"So my father told you everything about me?" Liz estimated confidently. "It's how you know all these little things about me?"

"The answer isn't that straightforward, Lizzie. Sam gave me a great honor, and, up until recently with you being privy to my existence, I'm not playing my part very well. Given the dangerous conundrum we are in now, I would say it is a known fact that I'm failing."

"What great honor did he give you?" Liz asked, raising her brow. "Is it in regards to me?"

Red finally turned to look at her directly, and Liz struggled to hold his gaze again due to their closeness. She fought to hold his eyes, but her head felt as if it was swarming; Swarming with all this new information she was struggling to make sense of. Instead of meeting his eyes, she settled on the collar of his shirt instead.

"Everything Sam ever did was always in regards to you, Lizzie. It is one of the main joys of being a father. Everything you ever do, you always do it for your child. Nothing else matters but their safety, their wellbeing, and I made that man a promise, something I intend to keep."

She let her eyes rest on his jaw, watching the muscles move, tighten and slacken.

"I swore to Sam that no matter what I would always keep you safe. As if you were my own daughter, my main priority was always keeping you safe and that I would protect you from the harsh, cruel realities of this world; A role I adopted once all of this began." He gave out a heavy sigh. "I want you succeeding, Lizzie. I know how passionate and dedicated you are to your job, and I felt that the only way to make you accomplish what you wanted, was for me to turn myself in so you could get a chance to catch the big, bad criminals of the world. However, like most things, it becomes... complicated. It isn't a role or duty anymore, more so than an act of normalcy, something engrained. You begin to know someone and feelings you never even dreamed of experiencing again start to arise for that person."

Liz wasn't entirely processing his words. More so, she was listening, wrapped up in the deep richness of his voice and the cadences in which he pronounced them.

"Sam assigned me with a great honor, Lizzie. And that was to be your Godfather. A good old friend looking out for the other friend's daughter."

She could feel Red's eyes on her, judging her reaction to the news, while his thumb stroked the patch of skin between her thumb and forefinger soothingly. A sudden chill came into the room and Liz shuddered. She moved closer to him on the mattress, stifling a groan of pain that came along with the movements, and wrapped her free hand over his forearm that was holding her hand tightly in his, using some of his warmth and body heat to her advantage. She slid her cheek closer into the crook of his neck and sighed quietly, closing her eyes. She felt oddly serene and peaceful. More than enough questions had been answered, and now she no longer had to dwell on the answers to them.

"Is that the answer you wanted, Lizzie?" Red asked her softly. His voice was strained and she could hear the apprehension lifting the pitch of his voice.

"Yes, thank you," she murmured, almost inaudibly. She felt tears coursing down her cheeks but neither of them acknowledged that she was crying. "It helps to finally understand. Now I don't feel so sad about the possibility of dying in here."

"Lizzie, we're not going to die. I'm a man of my word, and I am going to do everything within my power to see to it, alright?"

She swallowed dryly and felt his hand clenching hers again. "Alright. So we're not going to die, not today." Liz wasn't even sure if she believed that, but it was the pessimistic side of her pushing its way up to the surface.

She felt Red brush the hair carefully out of her face with his fingers and he leaned down to kiss her tenderly in the center of her forehead. His lips felt warm and it only made her relax even further and feel certain about overcoming the ordeal they were trapped in together. They just had to be patient, and wait.

**I hope you are liking the story so far and that it's okay? What do you think the connection is between Red and Liz? Do you think he is actually her father? I'm kind of hoping not, for the sake of the chemistry between the two. Thank you for reading, you guys are awesome!**


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